


that's a gesture of endearment in some cultures

by sincerelysamedt



Category: Hunter X Hunter
Genre: Bilingual Characters, Endearments, M/M, Pet Names, Pining, expressing affection in a culturally significant manner, terms of endearment, they have culture-specific pet names for each other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-10
Updated: 2020-07-26
Packaged: 2021-03-05 03:28:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,110
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25187950
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sincerelysamedt/pseuds/sincerelysamedt
Summary: "Well… why don't you give me one, then?" Gon says in all his typical oblivious dumbass radiance.God, he isn't going to survive the commute to their hotel, forget the auction, if Gon keeps being such a little shit."Huh?""A nickname! You could give me a nickname, then we'll be even and you don't have to feel embarrassed!"
Relationships: Gon Freecs/Killua Zoldyck
Comments: 49
Kudos: 401





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Miah_Kat](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Miah_Kat/gifts).
  * Inspired by [of all the stars in the sky, you see me](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24207928) by [Miah_Kat](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Miah_Kat/pseuds/Miah_Kat). 



> "That's a gesture of endearment in some cultures. Some hug, some kiss, some set each other on fire in small patches of woodland." - Jonathan Stroud

Gon doesn't call him the nickname for the rest of their stay on Whale Island. There isn't really a need to after the festival, where Gon introduced Killua to nearly every inhabitant of the place, and since then everyone called him by his given name or simply as "Gon's friend".

Never _kīwaha_.

He knows they won't, even if they smile at him with so much barely-contained amusement while Gon babbles at them, his wrist in Gon's hand, when they stop by the market to pick up the day's shopping for Mito. For all their hospitality, Killua doesn't want them to either. Even if D'Nalsian culture did not dictate it, he wouldn't want anyone else to call him that name anyway. It is something only for Gon, only for Killua, only for the two of them, as stupid and petty and childish as it may be.

(How greedy would it be to ask Gon to call him _kīwaha_ again, soft and thrilled and whispered into his ear, just for the pleasure of hearing it. How _tempting._ )

He almost does it. He almost asks. But he stops himself from indulging in this humiliation every time, shakes his head and pushes Gon off to get ahead of him in another race or another game of tag or who gets the last sweet rice cake at dinner. It shouldn't matter.

And it doesn't. There are so many other secrets and adventures on Whale Island that Gon shares with him freely and happily. His family, warm food, friendly neighbors, the sights and sounds and sensations of his home that should mean much more than a nickname. The roots and waves that shaped and molded this brilliant island boy.

Killua feels a pang for the loss regardless.

* * *

"Where do you think we should go next, _kīwaha?"_ Gon asks when they reach the mainland and Killua almost trips down the ramp.

"Why are you calling me that?" He snaps, still in the lightning-quick instinctual response of incredulity, asking _why_ when he really means _why now when I've wanted that for weeks,_ facing Gon who's--

\-- who's looking at him with wide innocent eyes and a confused crease on his brow to accompany his smile.

"Oh, I thought you didn't mind?" He asks, like Killua's brain isn't dripping out his ears.

He doesn't. It's just… _embarrassing._ Not many people outside of the Whale Island cluster speak D'Nalsi, and there's a good chance there is no one here on this foreign port in the city who will understand it, but hearing it _here_ where anyone and _everyone_ could hear, when it's something that seemed so private, so _intimate_ back under the stars of Gon's home by the sea on that one single fleeting night--

"I don't." He finally concedes instead of _do it again_ . "But why are you calling me that _now?"_

\-- it's still _embarrassing._

Gon just tilts his head, blinking.

"I just felt like it." Simple.

Unbelievable.

Gon must pick up on his exasperation. It would be hard to mistake his forceful facepalm for anything else, the reluctant but still defeated slump of his shoulders, backpack straps drooping down his arms.

Gon hops over and bends down to peer at him from between the cage of his fingers, hands clasped together behind his back. Even an actual cage wouldn't keep him safe from the gleam in Gon's eyes when he gets like this, Killua has agonizingly begun to learn. It strikes Killua then that Gon can be just as devious as any other boy, he's just earnest and endearing enough for most people to overlook it.

"You say you don't mind, but you look bothered by it, _kīwaha._ " Gon says with the same smile he left Mito with when they boarded. The same smile the D'Nalsian islanders cooed over at the festival held in Gon's honor. Killua feels the tips of his ears warm under Yorkshin's urban sun and Gon's widening grin. 

"Should I use the Eigo word instead?" Gon offers.

_"No."_

_Kīwaha_ is one thing but being called _starshine_ in public, in the common language that most everyone _can_ understand, would be unbearable _._ And--

_It wouldn't be the same._

Warm, gentle fingers tug at his, prying them away from his face. Killua doesn't fight it but he does glare at Gon's dumb face, way too close and way too delighted.

Devious. Killua scowls. _So goddamned devious._

Then Gon smiles, earnest and endearing and blindingly bright. The kind of smile that turns strangers into friends and skin watercolor-red.

"Do you want me to stop? I will, if you want me to." Gon says in that kind, soft tone he takes to when talking to small forest animals and wildflowers trying to bloom.

_Don't you dare._

"You… You don't have to. It's just…"

_I like it too much._

"... embarrassing."

Gon's bottom lip juts out.

"Why is it embarrassing?" His brow furrows because of course Whale Island gave Gon bronze cheeks and polished copper eyes and a pretty, airy language that lilts and floats like bubbles, but apparently did not equip its boys with any self-consciousness whatsoever.

"It just is, okay!" Killua tries to take his hand back and reacquaint it with his face but Gon's calluses press deeper into the bones of his knuckles, very pointedly _not letting go anytime soon._

"Well… why don't you give me one, then?" Gon says in all his typical oblivious dumbass radiance.

God, he isn't going to survive the commute to their hotel, forget the auction, if Gon keeps being such a little _shit._

_"Huh?"_

"A nickname! You could give me a nickname, then we'll be even and you don't have to feel embarrassed!"

Killua blinks. Huh. A nickname for Gon. Something in exchange, in return for something as kind and-- and-- _loving_ as _kīwaha._

Because that is what it is, Killua realizes. An act of love. And loving is something else that Whale Island and all its warmth has taught Gon to do very well.

Does Killua have anything like that, anything at all, to offer Gon in kind? Before Gon, he never even had a nickname, something special and affectionate given solely to him. Mother called him _darling,_ Illumi called him _Kil,_ and once… once… he was _Brother_ to someone he called _sestra._

Niat Noum is not like D'Nalsi. It doesn't flow like D'Nalsi does. If D'Nalsi skips along the shore, Niat Noum descends a marble staircase. Niat Noum is lovely under the moon but its glamour pales to D'Nalsi's light. At least, that's how it is for Killua.

Killua stares at his fingers still caught in Gon's. Could he really pluck something from his own past and personhood, from Padokea and Kukuroo Mountain and Niat Noum, dust it off, wipe it clean, and present to Gon something of equivalence, like matching stained glass with blown bubbles?

"I'll think about it."

Gon grins and, Killua swears, squeezes his thumb just once before latching on to his wrist.

"Okay!" Gon nods and starts tugging him towards the streets. "I know you'll think of a really good one so I'll be waiting!"

"Until then, I won't call you yours." Gon says it like a promise. Like a _challenge._

Killua sputters as he stumbles, rights himself and wretches his arm out of Gon's to keep up.

 _"Dumbass,_ like I'd want you to!" Killua beats his feet hard on the pavement and swears loudly in Niat Noum when Gon reaches their bus first.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Killua twirls a blue gel pen between his fingers, hovering the nib over a postcard printed with the Shuzemian Mountains at dawn. He motions the words in the air, a centimeter above the cardstock.
> 
>  _It's nice here. Alluka misses you. Wish you could see it._
> 
> _To ~~solntse~~ ~~solnyshko~~ ~~svet~~ ~~serdtseyed~~ ~~luchistyy~~ ~~moy luchschy droog~~ GON._
> 
> _From ~~kīwaha~~ K._

"Have you thought of one yet?"

Gon's supposed to be asleep. Killua can afford ruminating but Gon cannot. In an hour or maybe two if Bisky's feeling merciful, she'll jolt him awake for training. Their plan hinges on his progress and there is only so much time Tsezguerra and his team can make for them.

"Thought of what?" Killua indulges Gon anyway instead of telling him off like he should, turning carefully on his side without jostling his arms too much.

Their campfire has been out for hours but Greed Island's moon is bright enough to see Gon, already facing him, still filthy from a day of flopping into the dirt and still just as wide-eyed as he was on the edge of a cliff under Whale Island's sky.

_Starlit._

"A nickname. Have you thought of one yet?" Gon mumbles into the darkness between them.

Killua gawps at him.

"Why are you asking?" He sputters.

"So, you haven't?" Gon says, tucking his fists under his cheek as if settling in for a nice long chat, unsurprisingly correct as always. It's uncanny, sometimes, how well Gon knows him. It might be unsettling for someone like Killua, who survives by being _un_ known, _un_ recognized, intentions vague and ambiguous until the critical junction. He's never sure if it's on purpose or just natural for Gon. He isn't sure what that means for either of them. Has Killua become that transparent? Can anyone just see through him now? Or is it just Gon? Is it because Gon is just that intuitive?

_Or are you just that weak for him?_

The ache in his hands chooses that exact moment to flare irrepressibly. His cheeks warm.

"No, I haven't." He admits, shifting his eyes away.

It's not that he hasn't been trying.

But how do you even give someone a nickname? How do you take everything a person means to you and keep it in one, two, three words? How can a string of sounds, fragile and weightless, mark the expanse between your heart and your ribs, the void that expands each time you inhale? _Oh, this is yours, and this is yours. This rib is yours and this lung that breathes your name is yours, please stay for as long as you like, I will never mind if you live here forever._

He wonders how Gon came to choose that word for _him_ of all people, out of all the others in the lovely airy lilting language of his home overlooking the ocean. If there are words in D'Nalsi for _mother_ and _father_ and _grandmother,_ then surely there are also D'Nalsi words for _friend_ or _brother_ or even _partner_ that aren't _starshine._

Killua knows there are words like that in Niat Noum, too. _Tovarisch_ and _bratan_ and _droog_ and even _luchschy droog,_ words Killua has never used, never even touched. Considering them now, none of them are enough, not in return for _kīwaha_.

Gon hums, something amused and understanding at the same time.

He finally looks back at Gon but Gon isn't looking at him. He follows Gon's eyes downwards, on his wrapped hands. The pristine white of the bandages blend seamlessly into his skin except for the parts where blood still seeps through; a stark, heavy stain.

"Gon-"

Gon snaps his gaze back up and the force of his stare makes Killua's throat close up. But the words suffocate him regardless, fighting against moonlight shining off of polished copper, it's fine, it's okay, I wanted to, _you needed me and I wanted to don't take it back please._

Gon smiles at him, so soft and quiet that the panic Killua hadn't even realized prickling at the corners of his eyes, quivering at the edges of his mouth, melts down his throat and carries his adamance along with it.

"Thanks, Killua. It could only have been you." Gon finally says.

"It could only have been you. If it wasn't… If it hadn't been…"

This time, It's Gon who looks away while Killua gapes, still and unmoving. Gon blows out a breath, dropping his body on his back.

"It wouldn't have mattered."

He finally breathes out the air he steals from Killua because _of course, this lung that breathes your name is yours._

"If it wasn't you, it wouldn't have mattered. Winning wouldn't have mattered." Gon yawns, blinking slowly, and it feels like being called _kīwaha._

He's impossible, Killua surmises as Gon closes his eyes and fades away into unconsciousness right in front of him. Unbelievable and _impossible._

Somewhere out there, a star is collapsing in on itself. He wonders if this is what it feels like. It must be beautiful.

 _"Sverkhnovaya zvezda."_ Killua mutters, curling his hands in just slightly, matching each throb to each beat of his heart.

* * *

Svet.

_You are light._

_Sometimes, you shine so brightly I have to look away._

Once again, he is dumbstruck and blindsided by such unearned _kindness,_ such bare bald-faced _understanding,_ that in the aftermath of his inexcusable cowardice, Gon still has the audacity to _thank_ him, to be kind and understanding and _patient_ after he left Kite to die at the fingertips of a monster. He had expected angry mocking outrage, justly deserved from Kite's team and Chairman Netero's men, but most righteously deserved from Gon.

"Kite wouldn't die that easily by something like _that._ We just have to get stronger so we can go after him!" Gon leans forward into Killua's space, unwavering and not at all disgusted by how Killua had failed him and Kite both.

 _Oslepitel'ny,_ as Illu-nii said.

_Dazzling._

Killua basks in the quiet rapture of realization, a _revelation_ , thinking dizzily and breathless, _svet, svet, svet, svet._

_But, even then, would it be all right if I stay by your side?_

* * *

_"Serdtseyed."_ Killua says into the empty waiting room.

It's pointless, yes, no one can hear him and it's not like he wants anyone to but it makes him feel better, somewhat, to curse out the person he would have wanted to be listening.

(If he had been faster, if he had gotten there sooner, if he had said something at any point, would things have been different? Would Gon be here to scold and hit until he groveled in the senseless way he did because Killua knows in the most private parts of himself that he would have forgiven Gon, should have forgiven Gon, by now anyway?)

He sighs. "I know, I know. I'm just sulking."

Standing up, his bones creak like they used to during torture training with Illu-nii and Nen training with Bisky. In a way, closing the gap between him and the glass separating him from Gon's body is kind of like both. Endure. Overcome.

"It's always like this. You running ahead, leaving me behind…"

The monitors beep. A machine gurgles. Gon doesn't move. Hasn't moved since they arrived and the doctors took him out of his arms.

"... to clean up after you."

It's wrong. Everything about this is wrong. This silence, these heavy machines, the cold empty air circulating between them. The weight on his tongue, _heartbreaker_ , in Killua's throat dipping down into his chest like resentment and like _grief, has he ever grieved before?_

"You wanted a nickname so bad, then that's what it is. That's what you _are,_ Gon."

A _serdtseyed._ (A _solntse_ kept in a sealed box.)

(It was never the right time. To ask, to question, to say _hey, I've thought of one now, half a dozen even, do you want to hear it? do you want to hear all of them?_ but always enough space where light was supposed to thrive for doubt.)

Silence. Beeping.

(If he had called out to Gon, called him _svet_ or _solnyshko_ or _my most precious friend let me go with you,_ would Gon be beside him now to call him _kīwaha_ again?)

Killua shakes his head and glares, at Gon or at his own reflection staring back at him, he doesn't know the difference anymore.

"And I'd do it again. I'm going to save you. I'm going to save you and I'll make you apologize to me then I'll tell you all the dumb, stupid nicknames you want to hear."

His hands clench and he resists the urge to smash the glass.

* * *

There are letters. There are text messages. There are packages that come unexpectedly laid at doorsteps and left with concierges of countless inns.

Killua twirls a blue gel pen between his fingers, hovering the nib over a postcard printed with the Shuzemian Mountains at dawn. He motions the words in the air, a centimeter above the cardstock.

_It's nice here. Alluka misses you. Wish you could see it._

_To_ ~~ _solntse_~~ ~~_solnyshko_~~ ~~_svet_~~ ~~_serdtseyed_~~ ~~ _luchistyy_~~ _~~moy~~_ ~~ _luchschy droog_~~ _GON._

 _From_ ~~_kīwaha_ ~~ _K._

A thick, dark blob of ink drips on the paper. He puts the cap back on the pen.

* * *

_"Mladshaya sestra,_ could you pass me the sesame oil?" Killua tries once, while (attempting to) cook dinner. It's not a difficult recipe, stir-fried rice in the tiny kitchen extension of their rented motel room shouldn't be, and it's not a difficult name to call his little sisters.

No bottle of sesame oil appears by Killua's side, though, so he turns around to call out for Alluka and Nanika louder only to find them standing right behind him with the sesame oil in their hands.

He drops his ladle in the frying pan when he sees their tears.

 _"Moyey lyubimoy sestroy,_ what's wrong?" He crouches down to wipe away the tracks streaking down their cheeks with his apron.

Alluka shakes her head, the beads braided into their hair jingling.

"Nothing, _starshiy brat,_ nothing at all!" She beams at him through her sniffling. She rubs at her eyes with the back of her hands and when she opens them, Nanika is blinking away the droplets off of their eyelashes.

" _Kirvochka, I love you."_ Nanika tells him, pressing the bottle into his hands.

It feels good, relearning Niat Noum with his sisters, exploring the candlelit hallways and porcelain surface of one of the few things their family gave them that did not hurt first.

"Thank you, _sestra._ I love you, too." Killua presses a kiss to the crinkle of Nanika's starless night-sky eye and turns back to their dinner before it burns.

* * *

It gets easier from there.

He addresses Bisky and Wing as _uchitel_ in his letters when he has questions about Alluka and Nanika's Nen training. He laughs when Ikalgo pouts at him over videocalls when he calls him _os'minog._ He yells _tupoy_ at Leorio whenever he checks in and when he tells Leorio what _tupoy_ means, they both agree Kurapika is definitely being it.

( _"Tanga."_ Leorio says in his own native tongue. "That's what Kurapika is. _Nagpapakatanga. Matigas ang ulo._ As if he has to do everything on his own!"

It sounds familiar, the hitch in Leorio's breath he tries to shroud in irritation.

"We have a word for that, too," Killua offers. "For people like that." _For people who make your voice crack when you think of them._

"Really? What is it?"

 _"Serdtseyed."_ )

And he never, ever, stops calling Alluka and Nanika _sestra._ Never again.

It isn't easy but it does get easier.

* * *

It's their first phonecall since the World Tree. Killua said he would text, after all. He never promised to call.

(He would, if he was allowed to, wouldn't he? He'd answer if Gon called first, right? But Gon never did and Killua still follows Gon even when he tries not to, so their friendship just continues to exist in coconut milk candies sent from Whale Island and postcards mailed from everywhere else, like a second incarnation from a bird to a caterpillar.)

When Kite passes off the phone to Gon _, when did Kite become so meddlesome_ , Killua's pulse beats butterfly-wing quick in his throat and he wonders whose permission were they waiting for?

_"Hello?"_

_Hello, solntse._

"Hey, Gon."

_"Killua!"_

* * *

Some things change and some things don't and it's unreasonable for Killua to expect which would be which.

 _The jacket is new._ It has some style, at least, if only in the sense that red-orange no longer clashes with the green. _He's still wearing shorts._ He has the legs for it, though, unsurprisingly. Kite obviously did not go easy on him and it shows. _He still has sunsets for eyes._ Stretching over a horizon, drenching everything in gold.

_You never looked at me like this before._

Ever since they've sat down, Gon hasn't stopped staring. As if… As if he's drinking it all in, every change and every memory that still fits. Killua can understand the feeling. He hasn't looked away from Gon laughing, chocolate sauce smeared on his cheek, either.

Even if it took them ten, twenty years to meet again, that is something Killua is certain will always hold true. 

_You are still light._

"Have you thought of one now?" Gon says over the rims of their sundaes. _Oh._ They could have had a thousand phonecalls between the World Tree and this little café in YorkShin and still nothing could have prepared Killua for that.

_You never spoke that softly before._

"How demanding of you." Killua snipes out of habit, out of instinct, barbed tongue quicker than the teeth sent to bite it back. But that isn't _new_ , as much of a twelve-year old Killua thing as it is a seventeen-year old Killua thing, and Gon definitely does not need to relearn how to let the spikes slide harmlessly without a prickle.

"I want to call you yours but I made a promise not to."

Evidently, it is Killua who has to learn how to handle the _ping_ of Gon's teaspoon clanking in his crystal cup, Gon propping his chin on the palm of his hand, casual and inviting with wide sunset eyes, the sudden yearning cropping up in his throat over _starshine, another difference, I haven't heard that in years_ \--

"I'm done breaking promises to you."

\-- reacquaint himself with the Gon who is _unwavering_ and _relentless_ , who looks at him like _this you have_ never _looked at me like this_ , like a vow and an oath is bitten between his teeth, a devotion much quicker to act than Killua's defenses could ever rise against.

He had known that this was not just a reunion. This is not like lunch with Leorio or tea with Palm or a movie with Ikalgo. Eventually, they would have to sort out the rubble between them, pick out what they left behind and what they said they'd save for later, rework and relearn and _reconcile._ But trust Gon to take the first step, hit the ground running back into the blast zone, over a fucking _nickname._

_"Ya skuchal po tebe."_

There, the _ping_ of metal hitting glass, a sudden inhale, _you've never done that before you've never looked at me like that before have you? Have you?_

_Or is it because I always looked away first?_

Gon drops his head on the table so hard their empty cups topple over.

"Hey, Gon-!"

“I was supposed to make it up to you!" Gon groans into the tablecloth, kicking his feet under the table like an absolute child.

"You were the one who asked!"

"I _know."_

"Then why are you _complaining?"_ Killua waves off the waiter that rushes to them, a vein in his temple pumping furiously.

"I didn't think you would say anything!" Gon continues to whine. Killua is half-tempted to push him out of his seat.

But then Gon turns his head, cheek still on the dirty tablecloth, a few inches away from a spot soaking in melted ice cream.

"You hide a lot of things from me, you know." He mumbles.

_Oh. Right. I've never spoken to you in this way either, have I?_

"Well, maybe it's about time I learn not to, then." Killua counters, rework-relearn-reconcile, and flicks whipped cream on Gon's nose with a manicured nail.

Gon sputters, Gon whines, and Killua laughs in his face then throws a napkin at his forehead.

"What does that one mean?" He asks after wiping at his face.

"It means you're an idiot."

 _"Kīwaha,_ that's so cruel!"

He swallows down the contentment, lets it settle in his stomach, on the rib where light is supposed to live unhindered. Something lifted out of the disaster and taken back home.

" _Glupyy."_

"Is that another insult?"

_"Podsulnukh."_

Gon must have picked up on the difference, the rounded syllables, the softness that made even Killua feel the flutter of his own eyelashes. 

"That's a different one. How many do you have?" 

They tiptoe in, one at a time, filling a crowded room. _Svet,_ he was convinced of, _solntse, solnyshko, moy luchschy droog_. He's had practice now, with the midnight-tongue his mother and brother spoke to him in, and how to capture moonbeams in letters to give away instead. _Sestra, bratan, uchitel._

How a language can mean everything, can convey laughter and love and so much affection, and still not be close to enough to say _yes, this lung that will always breathe your name will always belong to you._

Gon's throat bobs when he swallows. Anticipation. _Have you always looked at me like that? How did I never notice?_

"More than enough."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> GLOSSARY OF TERMS (from Google Translate and ReversoText):
> 
> * Sverkhnovaya - supernova  
> * Tovarisch - comrade  
> * Bratan - (someone considered to be a) brother  
> * Droog - close friend  
> * Luchschy droog - best friend  
> * Svet - light  
> * Oslepitel'ny - dazzling  
> * Serdtseyed - heartbreaker  
> * Solntse - sun  
> * Solnyshko - little sun  
> * Luchistyy - radiant  
> * Moy luchschy droog - my best friend  
> * Mladshaya sestra - little sister  
> * Moyey lyubimoy sestroy - my beloved sister  
> * Starshiy brat - big brother (by blood)  
> * Kirvochka - (attempted diminutive form of Killua) as a nickname or an endearment  
> * Sestra - sister  
> * Uchitel - teacher  
> * Os'minog - octopus  
> * Tupoy - stupid  
> * Tanga - (Filipino) stupid  
> * Nagpapakatanga - (Filipino) the act of being stupid  
> * Matigas ang ulo. - (Filipino) hard-headed, stubborn  
> * Glupyy - silly  
> * Podsulnukh - sunflower  
> * Ya skuchal po tebe - I've missed you.
> 
> @Miah_Kat, I super hope you enjoyed this and thank you for sharing your headcanon with the world. I learned quite a bit of Russian in the process.
> 
> To the rest of you all, go check out Miah_Kat's fics!

**Author's Note:**

> Some notes!
> 
> \- Kīwaha means "starshine".
> 
> \- I followed Miah's (and even Togashi's frankly hilarious) naming conventions when choosing the name of Killua's native language.
> 
> \- D'Nalsi is Gon's native language. Niat Noum is Killua's native language. (Yes, Island and Mountain.)
> 
> \- If D'Nalsi is kind of like the HxH universe's version of Hawaiian (or Polynesian? I might be mistaken.) then Niat Noum is HxH universe's version of Russian. (Yes, HC that Killua is Russian. Yes, the only basis of this is Viktor Nikiforov from YOI. Please don't kill me.)
> 
> \- Eigo is the Japanese word for English. Yes, that is their common language.
> 
> \- Sestra means sister.
> 
> And finally~
> 
> \- MIAH! I HOPE YOU ENJOY THIS.
> 
> You're welcome to visit me [@sincerelysamedt](https://mobile.twitter.com/sincerelysamedt) over on Twitter.


End file.
